


Big Love

by ArcadianMaggie



Category: One Direction, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, M/M, One Shot, RPF, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 16:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcadianMaggie/pseuds/ArcadianMaggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell the world. That’s not it at all." Louis/Harry, post-Sweden May/2012. Slash, RPF.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Love

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my wonderful beta, otta_ff, whom I somehow convinced to look this over, even though she's impossibly immune to these puppies' charms (I don't know either!). Thank you also to fr333bird for the Brit pick!
> 
> Originally posted on LJ [here](http://arcadianmaggie.livejournal.com/12472.html).

“Hop on,” Louis says. “I’ll give you a ride.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Harry smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“No thanks. Need to stretch my legs.”

“Suit yourself,” Louis says, ignoring the knot in his stomach. He turns to Liam. “Liam?”

“Thanks, mate,” Liam says. “Don’t mind if I do.” He hops on top of the luggage piled onto the cart and Louis pushes him through the airport. 

The fans love it. They’re lined up, taking photographs, screaming and waving, trying to get the boys’ attention. Louis stops to talk to one girl, frantically waving her phone, begging him to talk to her friend.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” she chants, bouncing, while Louis politely chats up the girl on the other end of the line whose high pitched squealing in between sentences is starting to give him a headache.

“Yeah, it’s good to be home,” he says, trying to wrap up the conversation. “Really good.” He hands the phone back, gives the girl a hug and poses for a picture before returning to the task of pushing the cart toward the exit.

They all pile in the van and Louis pretends not to notice when Harry chooses the seat in the back next to Niall and Zayn, leaving no room for him in the row. He and Liam climb into the middle seat and he gives a small nod to Liam when he asks quietly, “You okay there, mate?”

“Yeah, just tired.”

Liam gives him a look, puts his arm around Louis’ shoulder, clearly not believing him. He won’t push, though; that’s not Liam’s style. Louis is grateful for his quiet support. He shuts his eyes and leans over to rest his head on Liam’s shoulder, trying to not think about anything, quiet his restless mind. Liam’s comfortable, steady and reliable. But he can’t do anything to help the ache in Louis’ chest go away.

Harry ignores him when they get back to the flat. Louis expected no less, but it still hurts. He knows why Harry’s angry. He _knows_. And he knows what Harry’s looking for. He just can’t do what Harry wants him to.

 _Big love_.

That’s what Harry tweeted the other day after a great night of laughter and games, Louis cheering from the sidelines while Harry’s face lit up in a victorious smile. Harry’s always beautiful, but sometimes he’s so gorgeous, he steals Louis’ breath completely away. He wonders how he got so lucky to be the person on the receiving end of some of those smiles. The Larry Stylinson fans went crazy, of course. Big love. And Louis never responded to the tweet at all. Didn’t acknowledge it. Didn’t mention it. Pretended as if it wasn’t sitting on Harry’s timeline for the entire world to see.

 _Big love_.

He’s always pushing, Harry is. Always outing them in little ways, doing things that drive management crazy. They’ve got their reasons, and Louis understands them. Harry says he does too, apologizes and says he’ll tone it down, but he never does. He seems incapable.

Louis gets it. The two of them were like magnets from the start, inexorably drawn to the other, both of them swept along in a rush of feelings, neither resisting, because it seemed as inevitable as it was wonderful. Asking them to hide their love is like asking for the tides not to rise. It’s an unstoppable force. Or so Louis hopes. Sometimes, like today, he can’t help but wonder if it’s all going to fall apart, leave them shattered and torn.

He goes to the kitchen, puts the kettle on.

“Do you want a cuppa?” he asks Harry when the kettle starts to whistle.

Harry nods, says thanks, and Louis feels just a tiny bit of that tension in his stomach start to unwind.

Louis brings Harry his tea and sits down beside him. He wants to sit right up against Harry’s side, press his body close, fit his shoulder under his arm, nestle in together thigh to thigh. He doesn’t, only letting their knees touch, but he’s relieved when Harry doesn’t move away.

They’re quiet, not talking. Eventually, Louis breaks the silence. 

“You know I love you, right?”

Harry nods, but doesn’t look at him. Louis sees moisture welling in Harry’s big green eyes and he thinks his heart might break.

Harry puts his tea down on the table, rubs his hand across his face, and says, “I think I’m going to lie down for a while.”

Louis nods because he doesn’t trust himself to speak. His throat is tight and his chest feels heavy. He watches as Harry walks down the hall and disappears into the bedroom.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell the world. That’s not it at all. Louis doesn’t care about their “image” or record sales or their future careers. He thinks they’ll be fine regardless. Already they have more money than he could ever have dreamed. No, Louis doesn’t care about any of that, or at least, not when it comes to this. What Louis cares about is Harry.

Only Harry. Always Harry.

He wants to protect him with everything he has. He’s just so young, Louis thinks. Harry has no idea how cruel people can be. Right now the world loves him, and Harry shines. He’s bright and beautiful and Louis almost hurts when he looks at him sometimes, like he’s staring into the sun. Louis’s not much older, but he’s always felt that out of all of them, he’s the one who understands best the way the world works. He may play the fool, acting young and immature, claiming he wants to stay that way forever, but in his bones he feels a thousand years old. He knows how quickly opinion can turn, that there are those just waiting for the opportunity to cut them all down. Everyone thinks of Liam as the wise “daddy” of the group, but Louis knows the truth; he’s just as innocent as all the rest.

Especially Harry. His wonderful innocent Harry, who’s open and honest and can’t hide anything he’s feeling to save his life. Every emotion shows on his face, all right there for anyone who cares to look. His beautiful Harry who loves with everything he has.

Because he loves the world, he can’t see that the world might not one day love him back.

Louis thinks of Harry’s face when that “fan” in Sweden yelled out terrible things. How upset Harry was all day, that light in his eyes just a little bit dimmer. He doesn’t understand what will happen if they go public with their relationship. He just wants the world to see how happy they are, to not have to hide. To Harry love is love is love. It’s simple. And yes, it should be that way, Louis agrees. He’d love for the world to see things Harry’s way.

But it won’t; he knows. And Harry’s light will shine, but maybe not as brightly. He’ll smile, but not as widely. And he’ll be hurt in ways he can’t even imagine, but that Louis can. Maybe because he’s older and had a few more years to understand the world. Maybe because he’s just not like Harry—not that anyone else could ever be—never been the flame drawing everyone near, but the one walking into the fire. Whatever the reason, Louis’s not willing to take part in anything that will fold shadows under Harry’s skin, dim the shine behind his eyes. 

Except, of course, ignore his tweet. And meet with Eleanor tomorrow to continue their public farce. Louis suddenly feels as if he can’t breathe, as if every decision is the wrong one and nothing can make things right. Harry’s hurt either way, and today Louis is the one hurting him and will be hurting him even more tomorrow. He sets his cup down and holds his hands tightly in fists so they don’t start to shake. 

Finally, he can’t stand it any longer and gets up from the couch. He hesitates outside the bedroom, but the pull is too strong; Harry’s not the only one incapable at times. Louis pushes open the door and sees Harry lying on his side with his back toward him. He’s all hunched up, and even though his shoulders have grown broad and his back strong, he looks so small in the bed.

Louis crosses the room and slides under the covers, scooting close. Harry stiffens, but Louis ignores the silent protest, needing to touch Harry, to wrap his arm around him and know he’s real. To know they’re real. He puts his head next to Harry’s on the pillow and buries his face in his hair, wild and untamed from being trapped under the knit cap all day, but still smelling like it always does. Like Harry. Always Harry.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into Harry’s curls. His arm tightens around him and he realises he’s still shaking. “I’m sorry.”

Harry twists in his grasp, turning to face him. “Louis?” 

Louis buries his face in Harry’s neck and holds him even tighter, willing himself not to cry.

Harry shifts and Louis is pulled across his chest so he’s cradled against him, flush against his body, legs tangling together.

“Hey,” Harry says, wrapping his arms around his back and hugging him close. “It’s all right. We’re all right.”

Louis still feels desperate, as if he’ll fly apart. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m so sorry.”

Harry holds him, rubbing his foot along Louis’ leg, stroking his back, calm soothing motions. “I’m sorry too.”

After a while Louis’ breathing gets back under control and he loosens his tight grip, leaning up to look into Harry’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry too,” Harry repeats. “I know we decided together.” He doesn’t say more; they’ve had this conversation enough times already. “But we’re all right. Okay?” he reassures. 

His eyes are shining, green and clear; his voice is strong and sure. There’s a conviction to his words, an unshakable certainty. Louis stares at his face, marveling again that anyone can be this beautiful and he wonders, not for the first time, if he underestimates Harry. Because right now, he feels like he’s the one who’s being protected. 

“We’re all right,” Harry says again.

THE END


End file.
